Unspoken
by Jessicha Therese
Summary: Syaoran kept his hatred towards his father throughout the years. He just never found the reason why he shouldn't. Then, a letter made something change. Something within him.


**UNSPOKEN  
**_By Jessicha Therese_

_"The lack of words doesn't mean the lack of actions."  
-Jessicha Therese-_

_..._

Syaoran have had hatred towards his father since God-knows-when. Not just a simple indifference which was common with other families out there, but yes, hatred. He hated his father for making him suffer so much; he hated his father for not letting him understand the selfishness that the older man exuded.

Right from a young age, his father, Xiao Li, had always rubbed it off his son's face the fact that the responsibility for the clan will be on Syaoran's shoulders…_soon_.

And he never thought or dreamed that _soon_ would be in a very short time. He had even thought wishfully that his father wasn't serious about passing everything to him. He had even thought that the powerful man was just joking but disciplining him at the same time for a totally _different_ matter.

But no. Those were just wishful thinking. Those were just fictional aspirations of a young boy who wanted no more but experience even a second of happiness and playfulness as a child.

Because his father died when he was just ten years old. There was no time for the things that he, as a child back then, should do. There was only the time for serious business.

"_Your father's dead. Now, the responsibility is in your hands," uttered the elders. And those were the first words that they said after his father died._

_He tried to retort. "B-but, I can't do it. I don't know how."_

"_I presume your father had taught you everything. There will be no buts."_

Dreadful words. Life-changing words. And it was all because his father decided to blow himself up. Syaoran, after ten years, do still think that it was so selfish of his father to end his life. Maybe, he really intended Syaoran to endure all the hardships. '_Maybe, Xiao Li was getting tired of it, so he decided to pass on the curse to his son_.' Syaoran's mind screamed.

Expectedly, he felt greater abhorrence towards his father after the latter's death. He didn't even shed a tear—his mind was just filled with bafflement and fear at the task at hand, ire at the mindlessness of the man who was the reason his mother was crying so much.

Almost twenty years of Syaoran's life was spent under constant training and work. Thankfully, on the 20th year, which is now, he had found someone who loved him dearly and knew every inch of him. Sakura was so unlike his father—his father who didn't even know his favorite ice cream flavor.

"_Come in," said the gruff voice of the man toiling hard, his face concentrated on the papers that needed signing._

_A nine-year old boy, though hesitant, opened the door of his father's office and proceeded forward. "Father."_

_The father didn't even bother to throw the child a glance. He only grunted._

"_You weren't able to attend the 'Father and Son Day' earlier at my school,"_ _Syaoran said. "My teacher told me to give you a form."_

_At last, the man looked up to see his son. Annoyance was evident in his eyes and the child was inwardly frightened but never showed it for fear of receiving a good beating. "What's the form about?"_

"_Questions about my favorites," he meekly answered._

"_Hand it over," the man replied._

_Syaoran stood on his tiptoes and placed the form on his father's table. Without further ado, he left the room._

_Later that evening, his father gave him back the form and went snappily away, reminding the child never to disturb him again._

_Syaoran looked at the piece of paper and scanned through the answers of his father who at that time was becoming less and less of a role model and a hero._

_Favorite color: __black_

_Favorite ice cream flavor: __strawberry_

_Favorite flower: __none_

_Desired future profession: __Clan Leader_

_And the list went on without his father getting a right answer._

_Tears stung Syaoran's eyes at the realization that his father knew nothing of him. That his father didn't __**know**__ him._

_His favorite color was green, not black—he wanted to scream this. He loved chocolate, not strawberry for gods sakes! Cherry Blossoms have a place in his heart and no, he never wanted to be the clan leader. He never did._

If there was anyone in this world who knew him better than he knew himself, it was Sakura. Without him telling her so, she even knew his favorite flower, color and ice cream flavor. It may sound childish but from then on, Syaoran had pasted it in his heart the fact that his father never knew his favorite ice cream flavor.

No wonder he always got him the wrong one.

* * *

Syaoran was not in the best of moods. He was just ordered to return home yesterday and here he was now in Hong Kong, inside the room of his detested father. Yelan mandated him to retrieve the single box left in the office of his father. He wondered why the hell that thing would still be there after ten years—this he voiced out.

After a heated discussion with his mother, Sakura (after the pleads of his mother) interfered and persuaded him to do so. And painfully, he can never say no to the girl.

"_Look for important documents inside the box. Don't bother to bring the whole thing—just the documents."_

Syaoran sighed.

Without another glance of the features of the room, he directed his steps towards the private office of his _father_. Uh. How he hated _that_ term.

The room, he found out, was as clean as a plate licked by a cat. Brushing a finger on the window sill, there weren't even particles of dust. He roamed around the room, familiarizing himself with the four-walled space that had been the haven of his father, the world that separated him from his child.

After a couple of minutes, Syaoran picked up the lone box in the room and carried it towards his father's bed.

Green sheets covered the bed, just like Syaoran's own bed.

He plopped up himself unto the bed, the box settled on his lap as he tore apart the packaging tape that kept the box close.

Papers. Papers. A lot of papers.

More than a handful of documents were in the box that it almost made his head spin.

He dug deeper. With his fingers reaching down, they grasped something squeaky. Pulling it out, he came face-to-face with a green rubber duck. _His_ rubber duck.

Something weird went up his throat at the sight of his possession being inside his father's box. '_Why would it be here?_' he mentally wondered. _'I thought this box contains only those important to him_.'

He tried to swallow what seemed to be blocking his air passageway. But there wasn't any. It was just…hard to breathe.

With a strange feeling inside of him, he peered over the contents of the box and his eyes landed on a green envelope. It was nowhere near attractive that's why he was able to notice it. There wasn't anything special in it. Just that _his_ name was written on his father's penmanship on the back of the envelope.

_Syaoran._

Inside was a letter.

* * *

_Syaoran,_

_I don't even know how to begin this letter. But no worries, it's not as if you would be able to read this. I guess that after writing this, I would be tearing this piece of paper and flushing it down the toilet._

_Son—I know I don't have the right to call you such. I have been uncaring. I am well aware that you saw me as a father who never acted like one. A father who never loved his child._

_I know you hate me for placing such a burden on your shoulders but please understand. It's for your own good, for your mother and sister. I won't be able to take care of you all for the rest of my life. Not now that I'm dying. And I just decided not to let you know to save you the pain and trouble._

_I never wanted you to hate me. But I can't stop you, can I? Not when I was wrong. Not when I had a lot of things that I didn't even do. Like showing that I love you, son._

_I do. I really do. I just don't know how to show it. And I don't have the time. Clearly, that's a mistake. I never took an effort to be close to you when I have all the power to take a day-off. But I let work become my life._

_Funny. I don't even know your favorite ice cream flavor and here I am, calling you 'my son'._

_I wish I could turn back time. I love you. I never wanted you to hate me._

_I'm sorry._

_Very sorry,_

_Your Father_

* * *

Tears fell down from my eyes without my permission. But I didn't care. My eyes were fixed on the letter. On the letter that was already becoming a mush because of all the tears that's making it wet.

His father was such a jerk! He was such a jerk for making him cry like this. For making him feel a very deep regret and anger towards himself.

Soon, he was laughing.

But he was still crying.

No, he's not crazy. He's very far from being insane. Yes, he was laughing. He never thought his father could make him laugh even once. It was an absurd idea.

_Funny. I don't even know your favorite ice cream flavor…_

He didn't anticipate it that one day, his father's words would even plaster a smile on his face. But eventhough he was laughing, the weight in his heart was so heavy he already shattered.

The hatred for the old man didn't vanish. It would never go away, he realized. It just…subsided. Diminished a little bit. But never would it go away. Now, he had more reasons as to why he should hate this father. He should hate him for being so introvert and late. His father was always late. Late for Syaoran's appointments (which most usually, wasn't attended). Late even in telling him what he felt and late in saying sorry.

But truth be told, Syaoran hated himself almost just as much as he hated his father for he never took the effort to know the man before, to know him well enough to understand. He never took the effort to read between the lines. But then again, there weren't any lines.

And most of all, he hated it that he, himself, was too late to realize one thing:

_Just because he didn't say it means he didn't feel it._

_Love._

And now, he was crying so much for the things that he, too, didn't do such as showing that deep inside, he loved his father. Syaoran didn't know how and he didn't have the time.

He realized they have a lot in common than what he wanted to acknowledge.

One thing they also have in common: they loved each other but didn't show it.

Laughter.

Hatred.

Regret.

Sadness.

Realizations.

Tears.

Love.

They all resulted from unspoken words.

Unspoken words about existent feelings.

* * *

* * *

* * *


End file.
